Panic set in as you kneeled, praying forgiveness for your actions. You and Price. Last night.

He was the type of man your father warned you about, but he made you suffocate on air, the thought of his hands on you resurfacing as your fingers tightly intertwined, deep in prayer. Lead us not to temptation, but he had, his voice swirling around, delivering its own sermon in your head. Be it done unto me according to Thy word.

As you finished your begging to God, eyes open, meeting with his.